Han formelig danset bort til kjøleskapet og plukket ut de tre minst hårete tingene derfra, la dem på en tallerken og stirret intenst på dem i to minutter. Siden ingen av dem gjorde noe forsøk på å bevege seg i løpet av den tiden, kalte han dem frokost og spiste dem.

The argument goes something like this: 'I refuse to prove that I exist.' says God, 'for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.' 'But says Man, 'the Bable fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and therefore by your own arguments, you don't. QED' 'Oh dear,' says God, 'I hadn't thought of that,' and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic. 'Oh, that was easy,' says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and get himself killed on the next zebra crossing.

There is an awful lot of stuff you don't know anything about, but you are not alone in this. It's just that in your case the consequences of not knowing any of this stuff are particularly terrible, but then, hey, that's just the way the cookie gets completely stomped on and obliterated.

“A computer chattered to itself in alarm as it noticed an airlock open and close itself for no apparent reason. This was because reason was in fact out to lunch.”

There is an art, it says, or, rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.

Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.

"The point is, you see," said Ford, "that there is no point in driving yourself mad trying to stop yourself going mad. You might just as well give in and save your sanity for later."

There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

There is another which states that this has already happened.

"[…] It's unpleasantly like being drunk." "What's so unpleasant about being drunk?" "You ask a glass of water."